The Seven Wonders
by LasVegasSarah
Summary: Are the Seven Wonders enough to change someone's mind? Rated M from the start for suggestive themes and upcoming smut. Fiona/Myrtle FEMSLASH.
1. Concilium

Hi guys, so this is my first AHS fic, and I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Please review if you'd like me to continue with the idea I'm running with!

Kindest Regards

LVS x

* * *

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction inspired by American Horror Story: Coven, I do not claim ownership of the characters nor the world of Coven, it is for entertainment purposes only, I do not profit financially from the creation or publication of this story. **

Concilium

_The imposition of one's will onto another._

Myrtle Snow's mass of flame-red hair barely moved as she walked past the Ancestor room. She knew The Supreme was sitting in the arm chair, not only because the scent of cigarettes, whiskey and fine perfume filled her nose. Wrinkling it at the aroma that could only belong to Fiona, she ignored the cough that was a clear attempt at getting her attention and continued her amble down the corridor until she reached the front door. Attempting to reach for the handle, she halted, turning around. Taking a few steps back up the corridor she arrived at the doorway, greeted by a sly smirk on the blonde's lips.

"So nice of you to join me, Myrtle." Fiona smirked, her tone oozing with sarcasm.

"I didn't have much choice in the matter." Myrtle sighed with a cocked eyebrow, "What is it that you want from me, Fiona?."

Fiona threw her head back and exhaled. A cloud of grey smoke rose above her head and she smiled again.

"Sit."

"I'd really rather not." The head of the council groaned as she took a seat near Fiona through no choice of her own.

Once sitting, she turned to look at the elegant blonde before her. Her stockings were near perfect on her slim but shapely legs, and the tight fitting dress was bunched a little at the waist by the way she was sitting, legs crossed at the knee. She wondered what it would feel like to touch the slender legs of The Supreme before her. She often thought about Fiona's physical attributes; at first it was jealousy, but it had soon led to infatuation. She watched her draw from her cigarette again, and imagined kissing the slender neck before her. Shuffling in her seat, she tried to quell the warmth that spread throughout her lower extremities. As if she knew what she was thinking, Fiona let out a small throaty chuckle.

The read-head groaned again, "What do you want, Fiona?" she was beginning to grow weary of this game.

"I've always been fond of you, Myrtle Snow." Fiona smirked.

"I am a guardian of veracity in the vernacular, my Dear Fiona" Myrtle scoffed, "You've never liked me." she stood to leave, but sat down again as quickly as she had risen.

"Sit." Fiona repeated, her voice slightly raised.

"Oh, you are a cruel Witch." Myrtle hissed.

"More than you know." Fiona almost whispered unnervingly, before a mischievous curl of her lips.

She took another long draw from her cigarette and drained the last of her whiskey in silence. Myrtle watched her, nervously fidgeting in the seat. Fiona was up to something, she knew that much and it made her uncomfortable. The blonde's eyes sparkled with something Myrtle wasn't sure she'd seen before, and as Fiona captured her own bottom lip in her teeth, Myrtle felt that familiar, tingling warmth at the pit of her stomach. Fiona raised both eyebrows and Myrtle shook her head angrily.

"Just, stop it, Fiona!" she spat, punctuating each word whilst trying to protect her mind from any further intrusion.

"Stop what?" Fiona grinned with feigned innocence.

"You _know _what." Myrtle retaliated.

"Well," Fiona drawled, standing from her chair to move around to the side of the Red-head's position before crouching beside her, "If you didn't have anything to hide from me, there wouldn't be an issue now, would there?" Myrtle looked down at her hands, uncomfortable as to the way in which this was going. "Aw, don't get all shy on me now!" Fiona breathed into Myrtle's ear before sauntering in her impossibly high heels to the cabinet to make herself another drink.

Myrtle sat in silent meditation in an attempt to cease any further thoughts creeping into her subconscious. Her meditation was broken by the bitter-sweet vocalization of her tormentor from behind her. "I didn't think you had it in you, Myrtle," she started, clearly enjoying the situation, "I figured you just weren't interested in sex." The sound of that word from Fiona's mouth was enough to drive Myrtle insane. She shifted in her seat again and bit her lip. Fiona appeared close behind her, startling the red-head, "Yet here you are, crossing your legs, and hoping I haven't overheard any more of your dirty thoughts." She placed a large whiskey in front of Myrtle and held it there until she reluctantly took it from her. Fiona grazed her fingers along myrtle's gloved hand softly as she returned to her seat and chuckled to herself. Myrtle steadied her breathing and took a large mouthful of the aged whiskey, all the while ignoring the blonde before her. Fiona watched in fascination as Myrtle drained the last of her glass.

"Oh, Myrtle," The sensuality of her voice had not escaped her, "I've never seen you drink alcohol in such a way."

Myrtle finally looked up from the glass, "Sometimes you just need a stiff drink." She found herself relaxing almost instantly, which was clearly the intention.

"Now," Fiona leant forward, "When were you going to tell me you were a filthy bitch?"

Myrtle's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"You _are awful_, Fiona!" she cried. She was humiliated, but the words 'filthy bitch' swam through her head, threatening to be the undoing of her.

"Yes," Fiona agreed, "but you don't know the half of it." Still leaning forward she looked at the empty tumbler in Myrtle's hand. She put it down on the table beside her, all the while looking at Fiona with disdain.

"Fiona, whatever the silly little mind game is that you're trying to play with me, you can stop now." Myrtle snapped, knowing that Fiona had complete control over her movements, and being not at all comfortable with it.

"Oh, I am far from finished with you." The Supreme purred.

Myrtle watched her own hand as it came to rest against her neck and slowly trail across her collarbones. She steadied her breathing, thinking that maybe if she showed no interest in what Fiona was doing, she'd get bored. She unfastened her cape and continued trailing her gloved fingers across her alabaster skin.

"That's a good girl." Fiona whispered, watching intently.

Myrtle had managed to stay calm, ignoring what was happening until she'd heard the soft hum of Fiona's voice, encouraging her. Turning her head away from Fiona in a failed attempt to regain control, she merely gave Fiona somewhere else to play. Myrtle's hand travelled its way up her own neck and lightly skimmed the pressure points there, rewarding Fiona with a tremble and a quiet moan from the red-head before her. The Supreme beamed with pride, as the pale skin of the redhead's chest was revealed.

"Fiona, please stop." Myrtle begged. She knew that if she went any further she would reveal the true Myrtle; the sensuality, the adoration and the masochist she'd spent years hiding.

"Are you not enjoying this?" Fiona rasped as Myrtle's hand grabbed a fistful of soft flesh. The Head of the Council's undoing had begun. She squealed as her hands became rougher with each movement, and enjoyed it. She looked Fiona in the face as her own hand traveled down her half naked body, her eyes dark with desire; she knew what was about to happen. Fiona flicked her wrist causing Myrtle's skirt to pool on the floor, startling the red-head, and leaving her in stockings. There was no turning back now; Myrtle knew that this was it. For the sake of Sins of the flesh, she would have to resign in the morning.

This thought resounded in her mind whilst she struggled with Fiona for control. She _couldn't _leave the Council, for _anything_; or anyone. The Coven was her life, and she wasn't about to let a spoiled bitter old Witch ruin that for her. Fingers had started rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves between her thighs but she steadied her breathing and concentrated on regaining the power to her own body. She could feel the heat building, and knowing that Fiona was watching her every move intently only made her that more aroused.

She steadied her heartbeat and concentrated hard on it, ignoring the pleasure she was giving herself and the beautiful woman before her.

Control was regained and she stood up, quickly moving to throw a hard slap in Fiona's direction.

"How _dare _you!?" She hissed, "How _dare _you!?"

Fiona gave a throaty chuckle and ran her fingertips over the stinging sensation on her cheek, "My, my, how feisty you are."

"Don't speak to me, Fiona," Myrtle snapped, "Don't you dare speak to me, don't even _look _at me!"

"You enjoyed me looking at you." Fiona said flatly.

"No, you are mistaken," the red-head wildly spat as she picked up her clothes and left the room, "vile woman."

Fiona drained the remaining amber liquid from her glass and sighed. It had kept her occupied for a little while at least, and if she was honest with herself, she found it quite pleasurable to watch the flame-haired vixen touch herself like that.

* * *

Myrtle stepped out of the bathroom after a very long, hot shower. The hotel towels scratched her sensitive skin, but at least she felt clean again. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the water having taken a lot of the volume from it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she chastised herself.

"_How could you let yourself be so stupid, Myrtle?" _

She sighed inwardly, and dried herself before pulling out a long nightgown and getting changed. She had considered telling the council everything, but she couldn't go through the humiliation of Fiona revealing her true desires to Quentin and Pembie. She must remain stoic.

Climbing in to the less-than-adequate hotel bed, she shut her eyes. Although she hated Fiona for what she did, she couldn't help feeling a little aroused at the same time. She'd always wanted to be taken by Fiona, but she wanted Fiona to want it too. She wasn't there for her silly little games.

The Coven was too important to be chasing after a pipe-dream anyway; she'd have to keep her fantasies to herself.


	2. Telekinesis

**_Hi, this is the second chapter, hope you all enjoyed the first. I'm going to nicely dedicate this one to rawpotential as a thank you for the nice review!_ **

**Telekinesis**

Leafing through paperwork absent-mindedly, Myrtle tried to keep herself occupied. Though as hard as she tried, she couldn't keep her mind from drifting to the events of the previous night. Fiona had always been her secret pleasure; her secret infatuation and so to be faced with the reality of her imaginings terrified her. She was never one to act on her romantic feelings; she had to stay level-headed if she was to continue the legacy of the Coven she loved so dearly. Shame flooded her mind and she took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Fiona had used her last night and she desperately wanted to hate her for it. For as long as she could remember, she'd wanted to hate Fiona for anything, but had never been able to bring herself to do so. She had to get her revenge in some way, shape or form. Fiona would not get away with it this time. She felt humiliated and cheap (which was not something Myrtle Snow was used to feeling) and the thought of seeing her again made her blood boil, but she just couldn't allow herself to be publicly humiliated in a lengthy investigation process; which Fiona would no doubt breeze through, looking like the heroine, yet again.

Spalding quietly placed a teapot and a china cup and saucer on the table in front of her with a slight grimace and she nodded her thanks before raising her face to meet his. Placing her glasses on her nose again she smiled sweetly at the haggard man before her. She wasn't met with a smile, but with a small twist of his lips.

_Spalding _she thought. If she could prove that Fiona had mutilated the Watcher, then maybe she could have some sort of closure.

* * *

The Head of the Council paced wildly, pretending as though they hadn't seen each other the night before had been difficult enough without Fiona's wicked tongue and pure-evil-beauty. Then there was Spalding, _Oh! Spalding! _To have written _her _name on that piece of paper, when there was clearly no doubt that Fiona had cut off his tongue made her wild beyond anything.

_What kind of control does Fiona actually have over that poor mute man?! _ She thought maniacally to herself, continuing to pace. Humiliation on her part had not been the plan for the day, yet here she was humiliated anyway. All her life, she had been trodden on by Fiona Goode, and this was the last straw. She would _not _be getting away with it again.

Fading from the Ancestor room with skill and appearing at the bedroom of The Supreme she didn't even consider knocking before she swung the door open.

"Fiona! You have humiliated me for the last time!" She screamed unabashedly.

"I know." Fiona replied, not opening her eyes. She lay in bed, barely moving.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" The red-head continued to wail, "You _will _admit to cutting off Spalding's tongue, and you _will _admit to killing Anna-Leigh _AND _Maddison!

Fiona's eyes remained shut as she listened to the screaming Witch in front of her. "Shut the door, will you?" Myrtle's temper was increasing and she slammed the door without touching it. "I asked you to _shut _it not slam it."

"Fiona!" Myrtle screamed one last time, "Will you look at me?!"

Myrtle made use of her favourite power. The jewellery box on Fiona's dresser hit the door with a clatter, quickly followed by the mirror and the brush which hit the wall on the other side of the room. The light bulb in the center of the ceiling shattered and the wardrobe fell forwards causing an awful din. The room was definitely ruined, and she was left standing amidst the mess, in silent tears.

Fiona finally opened her eyes and saw the tears that flowed freely down the pale skin of the Head of the Council in front of her bed.

"Myrtle, I'm dying." She rasped eventually.

Myrtle tilted her head. "If this is a joke, it's sick, even for you."

"I'm not joking," Fiona smiled slightly, "I have Cancer; I won't last the year."

Myrtle sat on the edge of the bed, defeated, looking at Fiona intensely. She was looking for something in Fiona's voice, words, face to show she was lying. Finding nothing, she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Fiona chuckled slightly, "You'll be dead before I am."

Myrtle stood again. This woman infuriated her beyond anything she had ever known. Taking a few steps, she spun around again lifting her finger to point at Fiona. "Why?!"

"You've lost me." Fiona shook her head in confusion.

The red-head stormed up the room so she was at a level with her head. "Why are you so cruel?"

"I'm not cruel; I'm honest." The blonde looked back at her.

Myrtle sat back down on the bed, this time nearer Fiona. "You infuriate me." She finally sighed, frustrated with herself as much as The Supreme. Fiona sat up a little and reached for her cigarettes on the bedside table. Lighting one, she offered one to Myrtle who politely declined and pulled out one of her own Cigarillos. The irony of the situation wasn't addressed.

"The Dynamics of our relationship will always be the same, Myrtle; why do you let it bother you so much?" The blonde asked finally after taking a long draw from her cigarette.

"The dynamics of our relationship _could _be different." Myrtle sighed in reply.

"I really don't see how anything could ever change between us, Dogface."

Myrtle scoffed in frustration again, before deciding it was time to prove a point. She _knew _the dynamics of their relationship could change, and she knew exactly how to do it. Holding her Cigarillo out of the way, she leaned over Fiona's still form, and placed a tentative kiss on the Supreme's lips. To her surprise, Fiona didn't pull away, it seemed as though she was even urging her further. Myrtle's lips parted slightly and Fiona allowed entry to the eager tongue. With a gloved hand, she tangled her fingers in Fiona's hair as the kiss intensified. A quiet moan from Fiona cemented her original point, and after a few more moments locked in a searing kiss, she moved back again to look at the face before her. She had spent most of her adult life imagining that moment, but none of it had prepared her for the emotions she was actually feeling. She trembled, unsure of herself.

"Don't call me Dogface." She whispered as she sat back down beside Fiona.

Fiona let out a throaty chuckle, and Myrtle laughed nervously with her.

"What was that?" The Supreme finally asked once breathing had been steadied on both parts.

"A change in the dynamics of our relationship." Myrtle replied with a bitter tone.

The blonde woman looked down at her lap and coughed. She hadn't realised how much she'd wanted Myrtle all these years. Love and hate are very similar emotions, and she had never been very good with emotions anyway.

The red-head looked at Fiona for a moment longer, before swapping her Cigarillo to the other hand and raising it to her mouth. She stopped mid air, noticing the clump of tangled blonde hair that had wrapped itself around her glove. Bringing her other hand to her chest she gasped silently, and pulled the hair from her glove discretely, aware that Fiona was the last person she'd want witnessing this.

She glanced over to the blonde beside her with love, and regret. She regretted that it had taken this long to make her feelings known, and that now she had, she clearly didn't have much time left with her. Fiona was clearly telling the truth and it devastated her. She took The Supreme's hand in her own and brought it to her lips, placing a tender kiss there.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay with you; you don't have to do this alone." Myrtle finally plucked the courage to say.

"No you won't." Fiona sighed, "Like I said, You'll be gone before I am."

Myrtle was unnerved by the sentence but didn't push it. She merely put her arm around the dying Supreme and pulled her close.

Fiona slept in her arms until the morning. When she awoke, it was before the red-head, and she took a moment to relish the feeling of Myrtle's arms around her slender frame. She managed to get up without disturbing her, deciding it would be best to leave her there a little longer. Sighing quietly at the mess of her beautiful bedroom, she side stepped her way out, taking care not to step on broken glass.

Myrtle woke half an hour later to a harsh sunlight through the drapes, and the vague recollection of kissing Fiona Goode. She rolled over, hoping (but knowing she would be disappointed) to see the blonde looking back at her. Of course, the bed was empty. Sitting up, ungracefully, she stretched her neck; couture was not comfortable sleeping attire, and glanced around the room. She couldn't see Fiona anywhere, but as she looked back down at the bed something caught her eye.

Fiona's soft white pillow was covered in something. She reached a hand down and felt a sickness in her stomach again as she came to the realisation that it was Fiona's hair. She'd only just put the first tentative feelers out on a potential relationship with the supreme, but now it was very clear that she was dying. Myrtle let out a small sob as she picked the hairs from the pillow.


	3. Divination

**Hi guys! All of your support has been truly appreciated and without your continuing support you would probably not have this next chapter! I'm so pleased you're all enjoying it, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it! LVS x**

_Divination_

With every step she took, a cold betrayal emanated from the pit of her stomach. The rope around her wrists were not necessary; the betrayal had been enough to break her heart and her spirit. She'd chosen white; it seemed fitting for the situation, though black would have been more suited to her mood.

Fiona had committed the most unspeakable deception but Myrtle Snow still longed for a final kiss from her very own Judas.

The Supreme kissed like a dying woman, and Myrtle wondered if she'd kissed in the same manner. She had planned it all along, yet she had still allowed the red-head to believe they had a chance at a relationship.

Fiona was cruel; unlike anyone she'd ever met, yet she still couldn't refrain from allowing her thoughts to wander to the blonde. Even as she led her to her death, something inside the enigmatic red-head still loved Fiona.

The Sun beat down on them as Fiona lead the crusade to the stake. Myrtle's mind swam with a concoction of emotions that threatened her balance, but at the top of it all was acceptance. It wasn't acceptance of her sentence, but acceptance of her fate. If she couldn't live out the remainder of her sorry life with the woman who had occupied her heart for so many years, what really was the point in continuing to live at all?

The condemned woman watched as the Supreme sauntered just ahead of her. Nothing in her mannerisms suggested anything other than victory, and Myrtle hated herself for even attempting to see the good in Fiona Goode.

On occasion The Supreme turned to see her charge, only to turn around again with a smirk of superiority and a subtle sway of her pendulum hips. Myrtle was being driven mad by the display of unyielding apathy, she needed closure, but knew she wasn't going to get it.

"Any last words?" Fiona asked calmly.

Myrtle had been thinking about this for much of her solemn journey and had a response at the ready. If no one could see it for themselves, she'd have to say it, though it broke her heart.

"You're all a bunch of little toads in a pot that Fiona is slowly bringing to a boil. You won't even feel it until it's too late. I'd rather burn than boil."

Fiona lit the flame with her discarded cigarette and watched as Myrtle screamed in agony. Outwardly, she kept a calm facade, but really she suffered greatly, her heavy heart threatening to tear. She chose to walk away, saving her dignity.

* * *

She hadn't been able to sleep for days and she could still smell the burning flesh every time she tried. The smell reminded her of her treachery and it burned her heart as well as her nose. Had she just given up the one person who might love her for who she really was?

She tried to shake the impetuous thoughts from her mind, to no avail. She resorted to whiskey; but no amount of warmth she received from Makers Mark quenched her need for the warm embrace of Myrtle Snow.

Days went by before Fiona could stomach eating something. She wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the heartache; either way she was getting thin, and that could never be bad right?

Another low groan of the attention-seeking finally led Cordelia to sigh.

"Fiona, what's wrong." She asked, not really caring nor wanting the reply.

"Nothing Delia." Fiona suspired, followed by another groan.

"Ok, so why are you miserable?" The younger blonde asked again.

"I'm not, I'm ecstatic." The Supreme drawled, dripping with sarcasm.

Cordelia felt her way to the table and placed a hand on her mother's back, gasping as she experienced a vision she never thought she'd receive.

_Two gloved hands moved up the naked expanse of Fiona Goode's body, stopping just below her breasts and meandering down again. Fiona arched her back and bit her lip. The same gloved hands peregrinated back up the soft skin, this time stopping at spirited nipples, taking one in each and rolling them between thumbs and forefingers. _

_Next to make it's way up her precious skin were a pair of red lips, leaving trails of vermillion wax as they ascended. Disarranged red hair touched her skin and she flinched in response. _

_A nipple was devoured in an instant, causing Fiona to gasp aloud. A red-gloved hand clasped itself to her mouth, exciting a low moan from The Supreme, as teeth closed around a teat._

_The suckling continued for longer than Fiona thought she could bear before the other one was feasted upon. The blonde began to growl with frustration, knowing that the heat emanating from her apex was more than she could endure._

_"Myrtle, please!" She finally growled under the red-gloved hand. Myrtle submitted and released the nipple from it's pearly white prison. _

"Mother!?" Cordelia clamoured in disbelief.

"How much did you see?" Fiona huffed with a voice laced in defeat.

"Enough to know that you've been a terrible mood for days with good reason!" The younger blonde exhaled.

"I'll get over it." Fiona shrugged it off.

Silence filled the kitchen for a few moments as Cordelia attempted to make sense of what she had just seen, and Fiona attempted to keep her unnervingly calm demeanour. The blind woman broke the silence as she descended in to laughter.

"Oh, shut up." Fiona spat as she stood, carefully readjusting her skirt before leaving the room.

Cordelia smiled a knowing smile for a moment in silence before a thought struck her.

"Misty Day!" She gasped to the empty room.


	4. Vitalum Vitalis

**Hi guys! Sorry for the wait, it took longer than expected to rid myself of that pesky writer's block! It did result in a separate one-shot being posted though, take a look! Anyway, this is the next chapter... Hope you enjoy it! Reviews are always appreciated but just seeing that you're reading it is great! **

**I own nothing, as always. **

_Vitalum vitalis: balancing the scales from one life force to another_

Fingers grasped at the swamp mud surrounding them.

Myrtle Snow could feel it's medicinal energy and she relished the experience of reinvigorating her body and also her mind-somewhat.

She'd had time to herself, she'd assessed the situation and begun the healing process. Fiona Goode had never loved her, she understood that now. She'd used her; excited the belief that she loved her too. What good was she as a Guardian of Truth when she clearly allowed herself to be lead by her emotions? Once she returned triumphantly to Miss Robicheaux's Academy, she'd ensure her place on the Council again and finally have Fiona Goode burned at the stake.

The Supreme, the love of her pitiful life had betrayed her, and the only way she'd have the ability to continue living the rest of her days would be if Fiona were to no longer exist. She would exact her revenge and reclaim her role as Head of the Witches Council. Without a Supreme, the running of the coven would fall to herself. For now, she would concentrate on the power of the clay that covered her expanse and hope her skin wasn't too damaged.

* * *

Cordelia hesitantly entered the greenhouse, listening intently.

"Hello? Don't worry, you're amongst friends." The blonde almost sang.

"Of course I am, Cordelia. So long as Fiona isn't with you." Came the croaked retort.

"Myrtle? Oh, my God. I thought I'd never see you again." Cordelia gasped, reaching for the figure before her.

Myrtle embraced the young woman and smiled.

"Poor choice of words, girl. But given my wretched appearance, maybe it's a good thing you're blind as a butter knife."

* * *

Fiona frantically filled her suitcase. Maddison's appearance in her bedroom had frightened her and she needed to get out. She was unsure as to whether or not she'd imagined it; the drugs were strong, but she wasn't going to stay to find out.

If the fact that she'd had the one woman she'd ever felt for, including her daughter, killed wasn't enough as it was, now she was seeing things too?

"Going somewhere?" An all too familiar voice startled her.

"Is everyone back from the dead, or have I already died and gone to heaven? Well, I suppose it would be hell, you know."

Myrtle let out a low chuckle from the dark corner of the room and took another draw from her cigarillo, steadying her hand as she did so; she wasn't going to allow Fiona see the emotions she'd tried ever so hard to conceal. She had to stay on track if her contrivance were to go her way.

"I've been resurrected by our new Supreme, young Madison. She rather reminds me of you in your youth, thin as a pin with a dreadful case of the me, me, me's." She managed, flashing a wistful smile towards the blonde. It pained her to see Fiona looking so devastatingly ill and she had to almost force herself to remember that she was the only love she'd ever known but had still had her burned at the stake.

Fiona's hair had thinned and her once perfect cheekbones had hollowed out to create a ghostly pale skeletal face that malevolently burned holes in Myrtle's eyes as she attempted to read or control the red-head's stronger-willed mind. She eventually relinquished all attempts at the hold she was clearly unable to maintain on the Head of the Witches Council and allowed herself to sit on the bed, defeated.

"Yes. Well, I wish her the best. I will be... on the island... of Patmos." She finally smiled, half-heartedly. She was tired- tired of fighting, tired of living, tired of caring.

"That's not one of the choices, darling." Myrtle sang, stepping a little closer and allowing her body to cease it's discernible trembling itself. "Take your own life or be burned, I believe it was."

"No, I'm not ready. I have finally found someone I belong to. Someone I truly love." Fiona pleaded, wincing as she heard the words she was saying to her oldest lover.

Myrtle placed a hand on her chest with the intention of slowing her heart rate a little. Bitterness and heartache swelled in her breast and threatened to be her undoing. Taking a few deep breaths she managed to quell the spinning in her head and turned to face away from the offending creature.

"No details, darling. I couldn't bear it." She finally rasped shaking her head vehemently.

Fiona glanced over to the red-head, tears pricking the corners of her wide eyes.

"Are you really going to make me consider killing myself?" The Supreme sighed.

"Fiona," Myrtle started with a long release, "it's what you need to do for this coven."

"Not for you?" Came the almost child-like reply.

Myrtle took a step closer and placed a gloved-hand on her pale gaunt cheek.

"My feelings are inconsequential, sweetheart."

Myrtle's touch burned her skin and she flinched from it. Her mind was guarded but she could feel the tenderness in her touch without any clairvoyance. Fiona finally nodded her agreement, and moved her hand to trace the empty space Myrtle's hand had left on her face.

The red-head towered over the seemingly-smaller Supreme as she looked up, defencelessly. Myrtle's head swam with more than a hundred thoughts. Part of her wanted to kill Fiona instantly, but another part of her wanted to kiss her. She's never forgive herself if she didn't allow Fiona one last indulgence, and so she lifted her skirt slightly and rested a knee either side of the sitting woman before her. Easing Fiona down gently onto her back she kissed the dying woman meekly. To her surprise, the blonde kissed her back.

Tracing dove-like kisses across her jawline and down her neck, she luxuriated in the sound emitting from the woman below her.

This hadn't been part of her plan at all, but it would still work out in the way she needed, and at least she would have received something physical from it. As soon as they'd had their fill, she'd go back to coercing The Supreme into suicide.

Kisses traced over black silk and lace and came to rest on pert nipples. Fiona's back arched, urging the red-head further in her ministrations. She didn't stay at mound for long, but moved between the two over a longer period of time than Fiona had been prepared for. Myrtle yearned for this to last as long as possible, she'd waited an eternity to be wanted this much by The Supreme, and it wouldn't happen again.

Fiona clutched at the bed sheets, as she gasped huskily. The flame-haired lioness persevered in lapping her pride until the movement and the slaughter stopped.

Myrtle stood gracefully and delicately wiped her mouth as Fiona gazed hazily up at her.

"You will die the same way you lived your life - alone and disappointed by everyone. He won't stay till the end. They promise...but they don't." She watched The Supreme's face as she interpreted her final words to her before she left without another sound.

* * *

The part-gloved fingers which had only an hour previously been the source of ecstasy in The Supreme, now fondled the black and whites of a Grand Piano. Beethoven's Sonata in B-Flat seemed fitting for the somber mood that filled the room.

A stretched voice cut the air and halted Myrtle's hands and heart. It wasn't even necessary to look in the direction the vocals came from.

"So where is this gifted little swamp witch that everyone's been talking about?"


	5. Descensum

**Hi Guys! Another quick upload! I'm on a roll at the moment. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's darker and I might upset some of you... I just can't help playing with this pairing! Thank you for your review Lalaleigh, means a lot that reviewed so nicely! Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this story and have enough patience to wait this long! xxx**

As always, I own nothing.

_Descensum - The Descent in to the Netherworld or Afterlife._

The music ceased and the room fell deadly silent. All eyes met Fiona's form in the doorway and she smiled a villainous smile.

"Leave us." She finally commanded, with eyes only on Myrtle. Everyone left quickly and silently, and Cordelia hesitated in the doorway a moment longer. "Delia, I'll deal with you later." Fiona barked as she shut the door. The other side of the door was quickly taken up with ears, and concerned faces.

"Fiona," Myrtle started before being stopped in her tracks by a sweeping hand.

"Don't you dare!" Fiona spat, towering over the wounded red-head.

Myrtle didn't flinch. Straightening her head from the attack, she looked up at her aggressor and waited on a second blow, which didn't take too long to rear its ugly head. A second, more forceful strike sent Myrtle crashing to the floor. Pride took over and she picked herself up and stood to level the playing field. She was reluctant to retaliate in a physical capacity; it was below her, she merely looked Fiona in the eyes and spoke in soft tones.

"Are you quite finished?"

"**_We_**are finished." Fiona howled.

"**_We_**never started," Myrtle argued, "therefore, there was nothing to finish, Fiona."

"You came to my room to persuade me to take my own life," The Supreme started, "then forced me to sleep with you!"

"There was no force needed." Myrtle smirked, "You can't blame that mistake on me alone. You wanted it as much as I did."

_A sea of shocked faces glanced around at each other from behind the door and Cordelia paced back and forth a few steps away. _

_"__Did you know about this?!" Zoe turned to look at her headmistress, causing a bolt of mouths agape to also turn. _

_Cordelia scrunched her face, and tilted her head, before realising she'd clearly waited too long to answer._

_"__Yes." She finally replied with a frustrated sigh._

_"__Whoa," Madison giggled, "Your mom's a lesbian." _

_Misty offered her a swift dig in the ribs as she growled with frustration._

_"__And if she is?" She whispered angrily, "Clearly Miss Cordelia doesn't mind!"_

_"__Like Mother, like daughter?" Madison muttered with a smirk again, receiving another elbow to her abdomen._

""If I'd wanted it, I'd have taken it many more times than I actually did before now, you Silly cow." Fiona chuckled.

"But you did take it." Myrtle added.

"Only when I was desperate, Dog Face." The Blonde pursed her lips and mimicked their past experiences together, _"Oh, Myrtle, yes, like that, I've always wanted you, keep going."_

Myrtle's fists tightened and her jaw clenched. She could feel her anger building up and she needed to calm herself before she really lost her temper with The Supreme. She was never fond of confrontation, but was well aware that she could hold her own in an argument.

"Oh, you think I wanted you that much?" She tried, "You were an _easy_ option, Fiona, _always easy_."

Fiona snickered and sent a glass on a path to the wall to the left of her. She needed a retort to silence the Head of the Witches Council. It took a moment, but she finally found the right reply.

"I have _never_ loved you, Myrtle Snow." She grinned finally, knowing that this was the throw that would give her the reaction she wanted. Sure enough, Myrtle's temperature rose, she felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach and she bit her tongue as she raised her hand quickly, sending Fiona crashing in the door. She hesitated a moment, considering helping the Supreme to her feet, but realised that this may be the only time she ever got to take control of the situation they found themselves in.

The Blonde landed doubled over, her head bent forward as she attempted to regain her composure at such an unladylike position.

"Is that all you've got?" She finally smiled through the hair over her face.

Another wave of power sent her tumbling through the wood of the door itself and on to the floor on the other side into the centre of a circle of young witches and her daughter. Myrtle took a few steps forward and stepped through the hole she'd just created in the door before flicking her hand again resulting in a new wave of energy. Fiona hit the wall on the other side of the room and Myrtle walked between the girls who all stood awestruck.

"Should we do something?" Zoe mouthed to Cordelia.

Myrtle spun and caught the young girl's face with her glare. "You want to try? Be my guest, Little Bird." Zoe stepped back and looked to the floor allowing Myrtle to continue her saunter to the huddled form of the Supreme. Myrtle's soft gaze was suddenly darker than the night sky and it made everyone uneasy.

"_Now _we're finished, Fiona Goode." She smiled softly as she looked down at her former superior. "Your powers are weakening; you no longer have the power to defend yourself, and taking my life from me only made me stronger. You're pathetic."

Fiona didn't look up, choosing instead to look down at the wooden floor, and the blood drops that clearly had come from her. She listened to Myrtle's heels on the floor as they echoed off in to the depths of the Academy and listened for a reaction from the girls whose eyes she could feel stealing a glance at their fallen Supreme. A hand appeared in her frame of view; she recognised the hand as her daughter's.

"Mother," attempted the soothing voice, "let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

Myrtle was awoken from her light slumber by an unknown force. She sat upright and looked up at the full moon that filled half of her bedroom with light.

"Fiona?" She asked into the silence, assuming the reason for her awakening was the woman in question. There was no reply, and she squinted around her room for a moment, lack of sleep and her poor eyesight not being of much help. Carefully placing her head back down on to the pillow she closed her eyes again. This time she _knew _she'd heard something. Sitting bolt upright again she reached for her glasses to take a better look at the room around her. A figure in the corner of the room she'd missed the first time greeted her with a flourished hand, and she knew immediately that it wasn't Fiona.

"I didn't summon you." She said softly, her voice shaking.

"You don't need to." The simple reply sang through the room but the figure remained in darkness, "I own your soul now, I can visit when I like."

"I'm trying," Myrtle cried, "I really am. She won't give up so easily."

"You're not trying hard enough, I've kept up my part of the bargain, and you need to keep yours, Myrrrtle Sno-wwww." Papa Legba's accent was thick; so thick Myrtle often struggled to keep up at times. "Do I need to remind you of your punishment for not keeping up your part of the deal?"

Myrtle shook her head vehemently. "You have my word; you'll have her soul by the end of the week."

"I think it may suit you to see your hell again." The voice growled as two hot-red eyes peered from the darkened corner.

"No!" Myrtle yelped, throwing herself out of her bed and towards Pap Legba's hidden form, "No! Please! You'll have it!"

"You finally have your true calling white-witch, retrieve what I deserve."

* * *

Myrtle hit the floor and opened her eyes slowly, knowing what she was going to see.

A menagerie of fashion-destroying shoes surrounded her; but the shoes were not her hell. She looked up and saw Fiona standing above her- in all of her youthful beauty.

"Stand up, Dog-Face." She shouted at her, "Stand up and fight like a real witch."

"Fiona, I know you killed Anna-Leigh, there's no need to fight." Myrtle pleaded, seconds before her stomach took a heeled blow. Fiona smiled sweetly.

"You're obsessed!" She laughed, pausing a moment, "Obsessed with me!"

The girls surrounding the pair laughed aloud at this suggestion.

"Fiona, Please." Myrtle pleaded again before another shoe came to strike her face, ripping the neckline of her dress a little. She felt warm blood trace a line down her cheek and she reached up to wipe it. A foot came to press down on her hand before she got the chance to wipe at it and now she was trapped, and in pain. "Please, stop!"

"That's not what you were saying last night!" Fiona cackled, causing another wave of laughter throughout the girls. The red-head sobbed, squealing every few moments when Fiona's heel settled in a new area of her hand.

"Please," she cried between sobs, "Fiona Please."


	6. Transmutation

**Hi guys! Look at this, another chapter finished! Only one more to go after this! Thankyou for your reviews, they kept me going this week! X**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing. **

_Transmutation- the ability to move instantaneously from one place to another without physically occupying to space in between. _

Myrtle sat up quickly, instantly regretting it as the room began to spin. She grabbed for her glasses and searched the room again. She was alone.

Sighing, she pulled herself off the bed and made her way to the window. Looking up at the moon she shivered in the draft from the frame. She was determined that she would succeed in her agreement with Papa Legba, both to ensure her power and success within the Coven that she so dearly loved, and so she could finally rid her life of the one woman who'd made living unbearable.

She closed her eyes and took a long cleansing breath, not that it seemed to work any more; ever since she'd sold her soul to Papa Legba she had a persistent anxiety, and a constant uncomfortableness she couldn't shake.

She'd never felt the severity of the anger she'd shown that night, and if she still had a soul, it would probably scare her.

Her thoughts strayed to Fiona Goode. The insatiable blonde had been the singular focus of her heart for as long as she cared to remember. Her love of Fiona had always surpassed her love of the coven and this had often distressed her.

She knew she had become obsessive, even before she sold her soul a few months previous, and now, she was in too deep to surrender her control.

Even through everything, she still couldn't shake her love of The Supreme. It was a difficult position to understand; she despised the blonde with a passion that transcended any emotion she'd ever experienced, but rivalling that hatred was her devoted infatuation for the woman.

She sighed again, shaking her head to herself before walking back to her bed and sitting on the edge.

* * *

Fiona cried silently as she cleaned her face for the third time that night. Cordelia had stitched the small gash on her forehead quite well, but at some point during one of her typical night-terrors, she'd managed to pull the stitches free. The bruising around her right eye had begun to show, and she noticed some swelling to her cheek bone too.

Not only was she ageing daily, but she now had to deal with the fact that she looked like a street fighter.

Myrtle had scared her, though she would never admit it. She'd never seen her react in such a way, and her powers had never been that strong before. Fiona knew it was only a matter of time before they came head to head again. There was too much history between the two women to allow them to be friends now.

Fiona's pride was wounded. For the first time in her adult life she'd been defeated. She was The Supreme, there shouldn't be any reason to fear anyone, but there was something in Myrtle's eyes, or rather, something missing from them that told her to be very careful.

Once the dried blood was finally removed from her face she stood and made her way to the window. Looking out at the moon she took a long deep breath and steadied her heart rate, which hadn't slowed since the evening.

"Surprise." She heard a voice she knew all too well from behind her and attempted to turn to face her attacker. The red-head turned her back around and Fiona felt a cold blade at her back which prevented her from moving unexpectedly again. "Open the doors to your balcony."

Fiona did as she was told and waited further instruction. "Step outside."

The cold night air came up around the pair but only Fiona felt the chill. She tried her very hardest to regain control of the situation with magic, but there was no doubt about it; Myrtle was stronger.

Myrtle continued to push fiona until they stood at the other side of her balcony, looking out over a vast garden. The moon was all the light she needed.

"Myrtle?" Fiona croaked, "what are you doing?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago, Sweetheart." Came the reply as they both stood stock-still. The breeze fell upon Myrtle's face and hair and she relished the feeling it gave her; the freedom to consummate her final act of love. "You've made my life a living hell, Fiona, in fact, even after all these years, you are still the hell I will finally journey to, but I refuse to make that journey yet."

"What're you talking about?!" Fiona asked, trembling.

"You, Fiona!" Myrtle squawked, "It's always about you!" The redhead took a few steadying breaths and growled, Fiona winced, half-expecting to die in that moment. "I need to be alone now, I need to look after this coven."

"I'll go!" Fiona pleaded, "I'll leave tonight, I'll not last much longer anyway!"

Myrtle laughed throatily and leant into Fiona's ear, "No, Papa Legba is expecting you."

The icy blade sunk through the flesh of the Supreme's lower back and twisted a quarter turn. Fiona gasped as her legs fell from under her.

Standing over the heaving body of Fiona Goode, Myrtle finally found peace.

"Myrtle," The blonde wheezed, "Papa Legba will receive nothing from me."

Myrtle got to her knees beside the dying woman and smiled.

"Oh, Fiona, you don't have a choice in the matter."

"You don't understand," Fiona tried again, "I've already tried."

"Speak sense, woman." Myrtle laughed a little as she absent-mindedly fingered the pool of blood surrounding her knees.

"Myrtle, darlin', I have no soul." Her last few breaths were shallow and she looked Myrtle in the eyes before her own eyes rolled back into her head. She was gone.

Myrtles mind swam. _No soul?! How could she know that?!_ The cold night air suddenly seemed colder and a voice arose from the darkness.

"She's right."

"I did it, I kept up my part of the bargain, she's gone!" Myrtle scrambled to her feet, allowing Fiona's blood to drip slowly down her own legs.

"No," the voice bellowed, "I asked you to bring me the Soul of the Supreme. Yet, she has no soul to take."

"What?" Myrtle squeaked.

"You have not fulfilled your part of the deal, Myrtle Snow."

"How could I have known?!" Myrtle pleaded again.

"I never asked you for Fiona's soul, I only asked you for the soul of the Supreme." Papa Legba walked from the shadows towards his Red-headed apprentice. "I will see you soon."

The night became silent once more and Myrtle looked down at her failing. Fiona's face seemed peaceful and her emotions came flooding back.

"Fiona?" She screamed, maniacally falling to the floor, pushing and slapping the body before her. "Fiona, please wake up."

She'd killed the love of her miserable life for nothing. The Supreme's blood covered her nightgown and alabaster skin with a deep crimson she'd never be able to duplicate in an item of clothing.

The bedroom door opened.

"Myrtle?" Cordelia exclaimed, before surveying the floor beside her, "Mother?!"

Myrtle stood, finally allowing tears to flow freely down her now blood-stained face and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Chickie."

She disappeared from view and Cordelia attempted to make sense of the situation she now found herself in. Galloping to her mother's side she checked for a pulse. When there was none, she suddenly understood.

"Mother." She sobbed quietly.


	7. Pyrokinesis

**So, this is it guys, the final chapter of this little bitter-sweet story and I apologise because I've been unnecessarily cruel! Please forgive me and please review if the mood takes you! LVS x **

Disclaimer- I own nothing, sadly.

_Pyrokinesis- a psychic ability allowing a person to create and control fire with their mind. _

Myrtle paced her bedroom in the early morning light. She hadn't slept; she hadn't wanted to. Fiona was dead, and Cordelia knew. The two people in her life she cared most about.

Cordelia wouldn't speak to her again, she knew that, and the woman she knew she'd been in love with from the start was gone. She had nothing to live for any longer, and to top all of that, she still didn't know who the next Supreme was!

She'd listened to Cordelia's cries of despair for the past two hours and felt her heart break with every weeping whimper. She wanted nothing more than to console the now-grown woman she'd given her life to mothering, but she knew that she was the last person who could.

Her blanched skin was still blemished with Fiona's blood; her hands were a deep claret, and she had a few smudges on her face where she'd pushed her hair back. She needed to bathe.

* * *

Cordelia cradled the lifeless body of her mother in the way she wished she'd been cradled by Fiona as a child. She'd even tried to bring her mother back a few times, but resurgence wasn't an ability she held.

Even in death, Fiona still didn't look at peace with herself or the world. A frown graced her forehead, and despite her best efforts, Cordelia wasn't able to soften it.

Myrtle had been the most important person in her life but now she couldn't help wishing it had been her instead of her mother. She hadn't yet had the capacity to begin to try and understand what had happened; all she knew was that Her Aunty Myrtle had killed her mother.

The early dawn sun shone harshly through the window and settled in the wrinkles on Fiona's face. The younger blonde traced them with the tip of her finger as she willed herself to conclude her sobbing. She'd always thought that her mother not being around as a child was difficult, but it didn't compare to the loss she was feeling now.

Maybe her mother had always been right? Maybe she was too sensitive?

No one had prepared her for the emotions she was experiencing in this situation. She'd never physically felt her heart ache until now, and she finally understood true sadness.

A final outcry sounded from the room but this time, one of anger. A dark haze enveloped her and she stood, letting her mother's uninhabited body hit the floor ungracefully.

* * *

Myrtle's door swung open with such force that the walls shook throughout the Academy. The redhead spun in her place, allowing her damp hair to stick to the side of her face slightly.

"My Child," she started, her tones as soothing and melodious as they'd ever been. Not a hint of fear or remorse shone through her words, though inside she certainly felt it.

"I am NOT your child." Cordelia spat as she took a few steps to enter the room. "Myrtle, how could you?!"

"'Delia," Myrtle tried again, "you will never understand the intense turmoil in our relationship."

"You killed my mother because there was_ 'turmoil'?!"_ Cordelia shrieked.

Myrtle having now heard her own rationality, suddenly understood the absurdity of her reasoning. She clasped a hand to her mouth and let out a small sob. Falling to the floor, she held her weight with one hand as she convulsed into her other hand.

Cordelia paced back and forth, unwilling to look at the crying woman. She ground her teeth, and continued to pace over the continuing cries of "I'm so sorry 'Delia." And "I loved her!"

Once calm enough, and her shaking was reduced to a minimum, the blonde spoke again.

"Myrtle," she began, steadying her voice, "you do realise what this means for you, don't you?"

Myrtle lifted her head, the tears barely marking her porcelain skin, and scrunched her face.

"I have no reason to live anymore, 'Delia," she sobbed, "I welcome death. Death shall never scare me, I know what follows. I have made so many painful mistakes in my life; I want my death to have some meaning."

Cordelia swallowed, but her throat was dry. She took a few steps to the woman who had been her mother for as long as she could remember, and sat on the floor in front of her.

"You really did love her?"

"More than life itself, my sweet child." Myrtle responded, tears still falling.

"Then why?" The younger blonde choked.

"A small moment of madness." Myrtle whispered simply.

Cordelia sighed, knowing she was hearing the truth. Myrtle Snow didn't lie. Her hair was still damp and rested against her face and shoulders, and her eyes; for once not hidden by her glasses, seemed empty. The blonde stood and retrieved a pair of cats-eye glasses from Myrtle's dresser, and handed them to her before sitting on the arm chair behind her.

"I will never forgive you Auntie Myrtle."

Myrtle nodded slowly. "I'll never forgive myself, Chickie. Why would I ever expect you to forgive me?" She turned to finally see the younger blonde's face, without straining her eyes. Cordelia's pale skin was blotched and her eyes were dark. "My actions were simply unforgivable."

"Yes, they were." Cordelia nodded her agreement, "but, I do understand, I think."

"You do?" The head of the council tilted her head.

"Love makes you do crazy things."

"I loved your mother," Myrtle stopped to correct herself, "I LOVE your mother, that makes me unreservedly as mad as a March Hare."

Cordelia smiled slightly.

"That makes two of us."

* * *

With every step she took, a warm guilt filled her heart. She had asked for no bindings, she was happy to go freely to the stake. She'd chosen red; Carolina Herrera. The dress flowed behind her in the wind and she relished the feeling of the silk on her skin, knowing that the next thing she'd feel on her skin wouldn't be pleasant.

She had committed the most unspeakable depravity, and she knew she had to take responsibility for that. Her biggest regret was leaving Cordelia on this Earth with no one to look after her but she had to give her dear, sweet Cordelia some closure.

Fiona had been cruel to the end, but she still found herself devoted to the dead Supreme. Her own death would bring her closer to The Supreme, even if it was just in her own Hell.

"Any last words?" The younger blonde spoke with an unsteady voice, almost reluctant to look at the redhead now that she was tied to the stake; partly because she'd murdered her mother, but mostly because she didn't want to say goodbye to the most important woman she'd ever been lucky to have in her life.

Myrtle had thought deeply about her final words. She knew it should be poignant, but say something about herself. She needed something that would push her into the netherworlds with a little courage, rather than hesitance. She nodded slightly and smiled, knowing she was going to see her love once again.

"Only one," she began, watching the Witches around her waiting on baited breath, "Balenciaga!"

* * *

Myrtle opened her eyes slowly, knowing what she was going to see.

The moon shone on Fiona's slender frame at the balcony.

"No." Myrtle gasped, "this isn't right, this isn't it!"

Myrtle was in hell, but it wasn't the situation she was expecting. She watched her hand grasp the knife, and no matter how she tried to let go, she just couldn't.

Fiona would die, again and again at the hands of the Head of the Witches Council. Sobbing, she watched in horror as she thrust the knife into Fiona's back and witnessed the sorrow in the blonde's eyes.


End file.
